


Witchland

by Zordosia (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Bi-Curiosity, Canon Era, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magic, Misandry, Not trying to be cute with that one, Other Golden Compass Elements, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Zordosia
Summary: When news of the Bartow witch clan allying with the British reaches Washington, the general keep his face completely stony until all the aides but Alex have filed out. Then, his giant boar daemon lets out an ungodly shriek, and Alex has to grip his daemon’s tail to keep the monkey from trying to skitter away. A Daemon AU with some other His Dark Materials elements thrown in.





	1. Chapter 1

    When news of the Bartow witch clan allying with the British reaches Washington, the general keeps his face completely stony until all the aides but Alex have filed out. Then, his giant boar daemon lets out an ungodly shriek, and Alex has to grip his daemon’s tail to keep the monkey from trying to skitter away.  
  
    “We need to counter this,” Washington says. His face is still expressionless but the boar is breathing heavily and spittle is frothing at her mouth.  
  
    Alex knew this was coming and he knows how it’s going to go down, but he has to try. “Sir, I understand that this is worrisome news, but you need to trust me, any man that tries to interfere in witch politics-“  
  
    “This is not a damn debate, Colonel.” Alex flinches at the uncharacteristic swear. “You’ll prepare for a diplomatic excursion to the Schuyler witch clan. You and Colonel Laurens will leave tomorrow.” When Alex remains there, debating whether or not to risk asking a question, Washington lets irritation slip into his voice as he says, “dismissed.”  
  
-  
  
    John and Alex ride out the next day, before dawn. Washington didn’t want any word of this going out. They wait until they’re far from camp and far from town before they look at each other and laugh.  
  
    “This is absolute bullshit,” Alex says. John makes a mock offended noise, and his grackle daemon feints at him. Alex giggles.  
  
    “Look, you never know,” John says. “None of us would have guessed the Bartows would throw in. Maybe something’s happening with them.”  
  
    “Whatever it is, we’re better off staying far away.”  
  
    “Whatever it is, it’s worth looking into.”  
  
    The monkey makes a face at John and John laughs and spurs his horse forward, and Alex pushes to catch up.  
  
    Alex calls for him to stop when he sees the slight change in color in the ground, a thick forest in the distance, and the faint gray line. John looks back, confused, but stops and dismounts anyway. They walk their horses together, until they’re within view of a long line of stones.  
  
    “It’s the border to the witchland,” Alex says. “See?” He points. “You can see the frost that witchmagic causes.” He kneels down, touches one of the stones that’s arranged in a long line. “And these are the runes that keep it at bay.” Alex pulls a round, flat stone and a chisel out of his pocket, and starts carving a symbol into it.  
  
    John kneels down next to him. “I didn’t know you knew magic.”  
  
    “Just some runes,” Alex says. John looks at him and he knows he’s waiting for an explanation, so he adds, “When I worked for the trading company, we sold them to sailors.”  
  
    “Sailors need these?”  
  
    “Protection from unhumans, yeah. A seaghast can sing a man into the ocean and rip his brains out his nostrils.”  
  
    “Bullshit.”  
  
    “We had the corpses wash up on the shore every now and then.”  
  
    John looks suitably impressed. The monkey climbs over and holds out her paw. Alex pricks it with the corner of the chisel and traces the bloody cut along the symbol. He hears the grackle coo.  
  
    He knows rune magic isn’t pleasant. “So why did Washington send you?” he asks, to keep John from focusing on his work.  
  
    John pauses. “I’m a witch’s son,” he says. Alex looks at him, surprised.  
  
    “I didn’t know,” he says. Henry Laurens is a prominent man, he figures people would gossip about someone like him having a witch wife. John shrugs.  
  
    “It’s not really something we talk about,” he says. “And I haven’t seen her or my sister in ages.”  
  
    Witches leave their human husbands. Alex knows  this, he just had never particularly thought about their human families. “I’m sorry,” he says.  
  
    “It’s the way it is.” John stands up. “But speaking of, keep an eye out for birds while we’re in there. Witches all have bird daemons, and they can be separated by great  distances.” He shakes his head. “My sister would always freak me out with that one.”  
  
    Alex smiles and nods. He sets one of his runes on one of the stones in the line, the monkey goes a couple yards away and sets a second rune on another one. He and John walk their horses over the border.    
  
-  
  
    The frost gets thicker as they go deeper into the forest. They try to go up the gradient, towards the denser patches, towards the witchmagic that’s the source. When they stop to make camp, Alex carves out the runes to protect them. He pricks the monkey’s paw, and gently moves it over the marking. He can feel John and the grackle watching them. When he places the four stones in a square, the frost in the area between them retreats.  
  
    “When did your mother and sister leave?” Alex asks that night. He and John are lying on their bedrolls, close together.  
  
    “When I was thirteen,” John says.  
  
    “That was the year after my mother died,” Alex responds. He’s sure it’s a painfully awkward and dumb thing to say, but he needs John to know.  
  
    “I’m sorry,” John says. Alex looks over. He seems sincere, and Alex feels himself relax a little.  
  
    “It’s alright,” he says. “Did you guys try to visit or anything?”  
  
    John laughs. “My father never let me leave South Carolina after that,” he says. “He didn’t even let me go to school, he brought tutors from Europe to teach me. He only let me sign up for Washington’s army because I convinced him my career would be hurt if I dodged.”  
  
    “Poor John,” Alex says, a little teasingly. “Stuck in his gilded cage.”  
  
    John snorts, and glares at him. “Shut up,” he says. “I know it was nothing to complain about, but I missed out on a lot.”  
  
    “Like what?”  
  
    John suddenly seems a bit more cagey. “You know, just like, spending time with people my age, pretty much everything was supervised-”  
  
    “Wait.” Alex sits bolt upright. “Have you never had sex? Is that what you’re getting at?”  
  
    The grackle jumps up with a start and that’s answer enough. John blushes deeply and Alex laughs.  
  
    “Shut up, Alex.”  
  
    “I’m sorry, I’m not making fun of you, I swear, it’s just… things make more sense now.” He lies back down, turns on his side to face John. “Like how you never try to pick up girls when we’re out. And how you never share any stories when we’re talking about hookups.”  
  
    “Shut up.”  
  
    “It’s ok, really. Are you just afraid they’ll think you’re a bad lay? Because most of them won’t be able to tell. I can point out the ones that will.”  
  
    “Shut up,” John says, but he’s facing Alex now, and he’s smiling a little.  
  
    “You just need practice,” Alex says. Something in John’s eyes shifts. Taking it as insecurity, Alex reaches over and pats John’s cheek.  
  
    John leans in and kisses him.  
  
    It’s not a friendly kiss, not like the kind Lafayette insists on. It’s deeper and there’s tongue and Alex’s mouth is open a little before he can help it.  
  
    The initial shock passes and he pulls back. John opens his eyes and his face quickly twists into a horrified expression.  
  
    “I’m sorry,” John says, his voice shaking a bit. “I thought you were-” Alex’s eyes widen at whatever that sentence could end with. “I just- you were talking about… practice,” he ends feebly.  
  
    Alex takes a deep breath. “That’s all this was?”  
  
    John waits entirely too long to reply, “Yes.” The monkey buries her face in her hands.  
  
    John balls up his fists, puts them over his eyes. Alex stares at the grackle dancing from one foot to another, worming her way under John’s arm.  
  
    “I think it’s the witchland,” Alex says.  
  
    John pulls away his hand, the grackle looks up. “The witchland.”  
  
    “Yeah,” Alex says. He gestures around. “It makes men do weird things.”  
  
    John stares for a minute. Then he nods. “It must be.”  
  
    Alex smiles in relief. “Don’t worry about it.”  
  
    “Right. Sorry.”  
  
    “Don’t worry about it,” Alex repeats.  
  
    The both lie down, their backs to each other. But Alex can tell from the way that both their daemons fidget that neither of them falls asleep for a very long time.  
  
-  
  
    They don’t talk much the next morning. Or rather, Alex rambles nervously and John gives polite but curt responses, and gets ready for travel much faster than normal.  
  
    As they’re riding, the monkey climbs up Alex’s shoulder so she’s near his ear, and says quietly, “you need to deal with this.”  
  
    Alex ignores her, and she sighs.  
  
    “You liked it.” He closes his eyes.  
  
    “Can we just leave it?” Alex says. “I came up with an excuse. If we wait long enough, all of us might start to believe it.”  
  
    The monkey sighs again, and Alex rolls his eyes.  
  
    “What if you’re missing out on something good?” she asks.  
  
    He clenches his jaw, remembers how his lips had felt all last night, remembers all the thoughts he had tried to chase away. “He can do this,” he tells her. “We can’t.” She’s quiet at that, so he continues. “He’s rich and has a good reputation. Anything happens to us, all the blame’s going to go on that creole bastard who bit off more than he could chew.”  
  
    The monkey climbs back down. Alex scratches the scruff of her neck, and he just hears her say, “I don’t know if we can stop it.”  
  
-  
  
    When night falls, they’re still in the black of the forest. But the frost patterns on the ground have grown tighter. It makes riding difficult, and Alex wonders if they’ll have to abandon their horses. They’ll worry about that tomorrow, he figures. They dismount, and John starts setting up the camp, while Alex lays out the runes.  
  
    He hasn’t tried to talk to John this evening, partly because of exhaustion and partly because of the conversation he had with the monkey, so he starts a bit when John asks him, “did you have witches in the islands?”  
  
    The monkey looks at him, then traces her bloody finger along the last rune so he can devote his attention to the conversation.  
  
    “Yeah,” Alex tells him. “There was a clan somewhere, we weren’t sure where. There was one who lived in Christiansted.”  
  
    The grackle cocks its head and John frowns. “Just one?”  
  
    “Yeah. She was cast out by her clan.”  
  
    “Wow,” John says. “Was she alright? By herself?”  
  
    “Some men attacked her once. The next day three witches flew in, dragged them out to sea. We never saw them again.”  
  
    “But why? They cast her out.”  
  
    “I have no idea,” Alex says. He walks over to the fire John’s lit, and sits down to watch it dance. “But I know that that’s the shit that happens when men interfere in witch politics.”  
  
    The runes make the frost fade from the ground, but the earth is still cold and hard. The chill set in when they lay down to sleep. John had started out with his back to Alex, and Alex had been afraid to ask for anything more. But when his teeth begin to chatter, Alex gives up and rolls over, curls himself around John.  
  
    “You don’t have to,” John says.  
  
    “Trust me, this is better for me too.”  
  
    Alex raises his head a bit, and sees John smile. “Alright,” John says. The monkey looks at Alex over John’s head.  
  
    Alex puts his head back down. He’s wide awake now. He tries to get comfortable, brushes away some of John’s thick hair from his face, pushes it up above John’s head. John shivers and Alex feels himself staring at John’s bare neck.  
  
    He remembers lying with his back to John the night before. He remembers the excuse he gave.  
  
    He presses his lips to John’s neck.  
  
    John freezes. Alex hears the grackle fly over. She looks at Alex, then takes a step towards the monkey.  
  
    “Is this ok?” Alex asks.  
  
    John’s quiet but Alex can the grackle fidgeting. Finally, John says, “why are you doing this?”  
  
    “I’m too cold to talk,” Alex says, trying to keep his tone light. When John doesn’t respond, he gives up and says “the witchland.” John’s body relaxes and the grackle settles. Alex kisses his neck again, and then John turns around and kisses him. He pulls Alex closer, wraps his arms around him, tangles a hand in his hair. Every thought last night that Alex had pushed away before it could take root comes roaring back, he starts wondering what he could do, what they could do-  
  
    Then he experiences the feeling of a feather brushing against the fur of a monkey, and he pulls back hard. The witchland couldn’t explain that, couldn’t explain how happy his daemon was when John’s touched her, even with the deep vulnerability that gaped open.  
  
    John sits up. “This is bullshit, Alex.”  
  
    Alex, for once, can’t argue.  
  
    John rubs his face. “I’m not- this isn’t a game for me.”  
  
    Alex feels some of his shame boil down to anger at that. “Yeah, because you can’t lose.”  
  
    The grackle croaks a low note. John stares straight ahead. “I can’t win either.”  
     
    Alex looks over at him and thinks about all the pretty girls who John never picks up and the stories he never tells. The monkey curls in on herself, grips her tail. “I’m sorry,” Alex says.  
  
    “I’m sorry, too,” says John.  
  
    Alex lies down, back to John. After a moment, John curls around him.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Alex wakes up before John. He gently removes himself from John’s arms, and looks over at the grackle. She’s lying on her side near John’s head.

“That doesn’t look comfortable,” the monkey whispers. She looks at Alex.

“Don’t,” he says. She nods, and climbs up his offered arm, onto his shoulder.

Alex is starting up the fire when the monkey tugs on his ear. “Look,” she says. Alex turns. She’s pointing to a falcon perched in a tree, staring steadily at them.

Alex throat catches. “John,” he says, in a loud, low voice.

He can hear the grackle, at least, stirring. John will be up soon. He has to seize this moment, before the daemon loses interest. “I am Colonel Alexander Hamilton,” he says. Loud and low.

He hears John stirring now. A bleary “Alex” behind him. John will figure it out. “I am a representative from the Continental Army,” he continues, “and we are seeking a meeting with a representative from the Schuyler Clan.”

“Alex,” John says, louder. Alex feels a little flash of irritation. He’s been rehearsing the pitch this whole trip. Just let him get through it.

“We realize that it is not customary for witches to do business with men. But, given the extraordinary circumstances of our current situation-“ Alex stops. The ground underneath him is becoming laced with frost once again.

He spins around, sees John moving the runes out of formation. “John,” he manages. “What the hell are you doing.”

“It’s nice to see you again,” the falcon says, a bit wry. Alex looks between the bird, staring straight at John now, and at John, his face painfully raw. Then a streak of black crashes to the earth, and a witch is hugging John so tightly she’s lifted him off the ground.

“Alex,” John manages, sounding a little constricted and a little teary. “This is my sister, Martha.”

-

Martha sits on the frozen ground comfortably in black trousers and a long black shirt. “You can put the runes around where you’re sitting,” she offers Alex, but since John is abstaining from that comfort he can’t very well indulge himself. So he sits, just touching John, who is just touching Martha, who is asking question after question about the Laurens family. The grackle and the falcon are sitting on a branch overhead, talking in low tones, laughter occasionally drifting down. Alex doesn’t think he’s ever heard John’s daemon laugh before.

“So dad’s president of Congress? That’s a big deal, right?”

“Yeah,” John says, laughing. “A real big deal. Doesn’t keep him from complaining about how no one listens to him, though.”

Martha laughs too. “That sounds like him. Jemmy still climbing like a little monkey?” The monkey looks over at Alex, unsure if she should be offended or not. Alex rolls his eyes.

John doesn’t notice. “Dad’s pretty much nipped that in the bud.”

Martha snorts. “Still sounds like him.” John knocks her in the shoulder, she knocks him back. Alex jostles back and forth from the reverberations.

“What about mom? When is she coming?”

Martha’s laughter stops. “She died, John.”

Alex stares. John stares. The grackle flies down, and John mindlessly cups his hands for her to land in. “I don’t understand.”

The falcon flies down too, lands a ways away, watching the three of them lined up from a distance. Martha plays with a loose thread on her cuff. “The war’s affected us too, John. Stray fire comes into the land, soldiers come looking for entertainment- it’s just been the British so far, don’t worry- people use us as scapegoats. We haven’t lost many. But mom died.”

John doesn’t say anything. Martha looks at him, worried. “She died a hero’s death, John,” she says. “She was defending another witch, and she will be avenged-“

“The last time I saw her was when I was thirteen.”

Martha stops, stares at him. Alex can see tears in his eyes. He wants desperately to move away, let them have their own space, but then the grackle looks at him with her own shining eyes and he can’t move.

“She never came back,” John says. “Neither of you ever came back. You left when I was thirteen and we never saw you again.”

Martha looks down, pulls hard at the thread. “I know it’s difficult, John,” she says, carefully. “But we had to go.”

“I know.” John’s expression hasn’t changed. Martha frowns a bit.

“It was our duty, John. I know it was difficult for you all, but it was what witches have done since the beginning of time. We had to do it, otherwise we would have forfeited our honor.”

John buries his head in his hands and sobs in big, ugly bursts.

“I know, I know, I know,” he says, Alex can barely make it out through the tears. “But I never saw her again, Martha, I never fucking saw her again, do you know how much that hurts?”

Her frown deepens. “I lost her too, John-“

“But you were there, you had a choice, you got to say good bye, I was stuck on the outside-“

“You’re a man, John, that’s the way things are-“

“I KNOW,” John yells. The falcon startles, then flies off. Alex watches him disappear into the distance. He puts his hand on John’s back, carefully, rubs in tight circles and feels how strangled and rough his breathing is.

Martha sits there, watching. “You should go,” Alex says to her. John says nothing as she stands up, takes her pine branch, and flies away.

-

Alex hands John his ration. John holds it limply in his hand.

“Please eat,” Alex says. He knows he sounds a little desperate and doesn’t particularly care.

“We kept waiting for them,” John says, quite suddenly. “We never left South Carolina, because we were waiting. Dad wanted us to be in the same place, right where they’d left us. So if they ever wanted to see us again, they could.”

Alex remembers his father clapping him on the shoulder and telling him that he had to leave town for a bit, but he would be back soon. Alex remembered being blown from house to house, watching as each host’s sympathy diminished as the days passed and fleeing at just the right time to save his dignity.

They’re quiet after that. John eats and then turns in early. Alex waits until his breathing is soft and steady, and then he starts out in the direction Martha had left in.

He walks and walks, following the thickening frost patterns. Soon the ground is caked in it, icy and slippery. The monkey digs in with her claws, scratching in tenuous footholds for Alex.

But it’s bitterly cold and his muscles ache from a long day of riding before and the difficult walking he’s been doing for hours and he keeps falling and he doesn’t know how many more times he can get up.

And then he’s lying on the ground and he hears the monkey calling to him, telling him he has to get up, he’ll get frostbite, please, Alex. Then she’s silent, and his fear for her is enough to make him lift his head.

A witch is standing in front of him, her blue jay daemon perched on her shoulder. Her dark brown hair is tied in a knot on the back of her head, and she’s wearing the same clothes as Martha. They stare at each other. Alex remembers he left his gun at the campsite. But he imagines that in any case, if the witch doesn’t kill him, her clan would if he spilled a drop of her blood.

He feels her picking him up, walking with him. She’s wiry, but even so her strength is disproportionate.

“Where are you taking me,” he slurs.

“Back to the border,” she says.

He feels himself begin to tear up. She could be lying but at least he has a shot now.

Still.

“The campsite,” he says. She pauses.

“What?”

“The campsite. My campsite. With my friend.”

“There’s someone else here?” she asks. She sounds worried.

“‘e’s good. Safe. Asleep. I just need to get back to him. Else e’s going to come…” he trails off and she sighs.

“Where is this campsite?”

“The… the non-frost. Down the frost. Follow the less frost.”

“I’ll just try to find your footprints.” He smiles and nestles into her. He’s lucky she’s smart.

-

He must have nodded off in her arms, because when he blinks his eyes open the ground is significantly browner.

“I can walk now, I think,” he says. She hesitates, then sets him down. The monkey climbs down from Alex’s arms, stands on her own power as well.

“Just lean on me if you need to,” she says. She dusts some of the frost off his jacket and smiles at him.

She’s kind. He has to try. He can’t have almost died for nothing. He takes a deep breath. “So the reason I came here-“

“We can’t fight for you.”

He stops in his tracks and she looks back at him patiently.

“Why not?” he asks, fully aware he sounds like a petulant child.

“Witches don't fight for humans."

“The Bartows are fighting for for the British.”

The witch hesitates, then says, “Queen Catharine was killed by British soldiers a few weeks ago.”

Alex is thrown. He frowns, trying to piece it all together. “So you’re too weak to fight?”

The witch gives him a small smile, and the blue jay chirps. “Queen Catharine was a strong and wise witch, but she was just one witch. And witches handle bringing her justice.”

“I don’t under-“ He’s cut off by Martha slicing through the canopy, landing hard.

The witch beside him laughs. Martha turns to her, while the falcon caws angrily at Alex. “Eliza, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what he-“

“It’s alright,” she says, smiling. “It’s been very entertaining.” Alex considers feeling offended.

Martha’s aggravated expression has not faded. “You’re so damn lucky it was her,” she says to Alex. “Half the witches in this clan would have killed you on sight.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say half,” Eliza says mildly. The falcon glares at her.

“Ok, any other Schuyler-“

“Wait,” Alex says, cutting in. “You’re a Schuyler?”

Eliza ducks her head down. “Well, yes. Not the queen, that’s my sister, and in any case Martha, I don’t think either of them would kill him on sight, we have meetings, and besides, I could-“ She stops at Martha’s exasperated expression.

“I can take him from here,” Martha says. Eliza nods.

She takes the pine branch Martha offers her. As she walks away, Alex calls out, “I’m sorry about your mother.”

Martha tenses next to him. Eliza looks back. The blue jay flies towards him, then wheels around. “Thank you,” she says. Then she climbs on the branch and Alex watches her black figure fly back towards the frost. Then Martha yanks on his arm and starts pulling him back through the forest.

Martha mutters under her breath for most of the walk, but finally she asks, “Why the hell did you do it?”

Alex is very tired and does not want to talk to her in particular, but she did kind of help save him so he tells her, “because John needed a win.”

She looks at him. She is clearly completely baffled.

“I know- how much it sucks,” he says. “When you lose the people you love and you lose control. You just need something, anything, to go right.”

She still looks completely uncomprehending and he realizes that she may simply not be able to understand. “But you knew you had basically no chance of succeeding.”

“John wanted to do this.”

“And you’d fight John’s lost causes for him?”

“Every time.”

They can see the campfire light, but the falcon says, “wait,” and Alex turns to face them. Martha stares at him, far too intensely and for far too long, but Alex stares back.

Then she hugs him and Alex is too shocked but do anything but lamely hug back. “Take care of him for me,” she murmurs in his ear. “I love him, but I need you to take care of him for me. For as long as you can. Promise me.”

Alex feels Martha’s tears on his neck. “I promise,” he says.

John is still asleep when they get back to the campsite. Martha smiles a little sadly. “He hasn’t changed at all.”

Alex ignores that, and lies down next to him. “I need to get at least some sleep,” he stage-whispers to Martha. She sighs and rolls her eyes, but settles down outside the square formed by the runes. Alex looks at her through half lidded eyes and when she seems engrossed with conversing quietly with her daemon, he wraps his arm around John’s waist.

As he drifts off, he experiences the feeling of feathers underneath a monkey’s paw.

-

He only gets an hour of sleep at most before John is getting up. He rolls on his back, watches the grackle fly over him.

“Get up, loser,” the monkey says to him. Alex swats at her, but she dances out of reach. He hears John laughing, and that’s enough to get him up.

He lets John and Martha say goodbye while he cleans up their campsite, disposes of the runes, and prepares their horses. He steals glances over to them. They both seem tense, but the falcon is shifting on its feet and watching John closely while the grackle is looking over at Alex. Alex meets her eyes and turns back to his work, embarrassed.

He feels a shift in the wind and hears the rustling of tree branches, and then John is coming back into view and climbing onto his horse.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks.

“Yeah.” John’s staring straight ahead. “Let’s just get out of here.”

The wind is at their backs as they’re riding, the ground seems to be sloping down towards the border, the trees seem to be shifting a bit out of the way to make room for them. Alex looks over, and John is leaned down low on his horse, teeth gritted, still pushing it as hard as he can. The monkey winds its tail around the saddle horn, and Alex picks up speed as well.

They make it to the border that night.

John takes their horses down to the river while Alex sets up camp. He’s down there far too long, but Alex doesn’t know if he needs space, if him being there helps or hurts, he doesn’t know what to say at all.

But he knows John isn’t ok, and that’s enough to send him down to the riverbank with no idea what he’s doing.

The horses are tied up nearby and John’s sitting there, the grackle in his arms. Alex sits down next to him and wracks his mind furiously. He can feel the monkey struggling to not fidget or chatter.

“She wanted me gone so bad,” John says, and that snaps Alex out of his anxious rumination. “She moved heaven and earth to get me out of there.” He laughs bitterly.

Ok, Alex can work off this. “She wasn’t,” he says. “She was- trying to get a clean break.”

“A clean break,” John repeats.

“Yeah like-“ Alex looks over, John’s face is blank, the anxiety is back in full force. “She didn’t want to lead you on, didn’t want to make you stay in that place that reminded you of- all that shit- any more than you had to. She wanted you to be able to put this all out of mind.” The monkey places her hand on his, and Alex squeezes it. “When I left St. Croix,” he says, quietly now, “it helped. I wasn’t reminded of everything as soon as I stepped out my front door. She was trying to be kind.”

“Alex, I’m sorry, I should have-“

“No, it’s ok,” Alex says. “I just want you to know you’re not alone.”

He puts his hand on John’s shoulder, John turns to look at him. Alex squeezes his shoulder and kisses him. John pushes him off.

“You don’t have to do this, I’m not-“

“It’s not-“

The grackle climbs into the monkey’s arms and John and Alex are both struck silent, breathing heavily and uncomfortably close.

“I want this,” Alex tells him. When John doesn’t respond, he adds, “please.”

John kisses him, deeply this time, a little rough. His nails dig into Alex’s forearms. Alex kisses back and he is fully aware of how desperate the both of them are. He pulls John on top of him, reaches up to unbutton John’s shirt.

John cradles his face. “We don’t have to.”

“Of course we don’t, but that’s not going to stop us, is it?” John laughs, and Alex grins too. He buries his head in the crook of John’s neck as John sets to work on his shirt.

“I’m so glad,” John murmurs, and he repeats it a few times, then again after they’re done. Alex kisses his neck, finds his voice, and responds, “Me too.”

-

A few days after Alex and John return to the encampment, they get word that the Bartow clan turned on the British and destroyed a quarter of their naval fleet, with fiery arrows and terrible winds. Washington nods tersely to Alex. As the army celebrates, Alex and John wander off and watch the black figures streak across the night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear with the misandry stuff- not trying to be lol uwu kill all men or whatever, it's just how I pictured Witch society, particularly at this point in social development. Also I just cannot help myself in terms of passive aggressively dragging John Laurens's treatment of Martha Manning.
> 
> My tumblr is theoroark, if you want to reach me there.
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for reading- I really appreciate it. I'm thinking of maybe doing a bit more in this AU, if people like it, so if you have any ideas let me know. And any comments or kudos would make my day!

**Author's Note:**

> It's not gay if it's in the witchland.
> 
> So because of the AU, some of the character development has changed- so John never went to England and never met Martha Manning. Let me know if you have any questions about this AU, I hope I explained all the His Dark Materials things but I might have missed something. 
> 
> You can also talk to me at my tumblr, theoroark.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and any comments or kudos would make my day!


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